


Silk Sheets

by SquadOfCats



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 01:46:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11003415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquadOfCats/pseuds/SquadOfCats
Summary: The first time Harry spends the night in Draco's bed, he discovers that he really likes silk sheets.“Trying to decide which feels better,” Harry mumbled into the feather pillow. “You, or this bed.”“Oh, and here I was thinking we’d go for round two! Silly me. Shall I leave you alone to fuck my furniture?”“Maybe.” Harry laughed. Taunting Draco, he rocked his hips and thrust against the mattress.





	Silk Sheets

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own these characters.
> 
> This is complete and utter porn, featuring shameless!Harry, mildly-possessive!Draco, snark, new feelings, and a little bit of a furniture fetish. I hope you enjoy!

Harry had never slept on silk sheets before.

Silk? Or were they satin? He wasn’t sure – didn’t even really know the difference. All he knew was that the smooth fabric felt gorgeous on his skin. Every other bed he’d ever slept in had cotton sheets, sometimes scratchy, in Gryffindor red or dingy old white. Now that he had felt what he’d been missing, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to go back.

He stretched a little, shifted on the bed to let the cool sheet beneath him caress his warm, bare chest. Drowsy contentment floated through him, and he groaned a pleased little sound into the pillow.

“Comfortable?” Draco sprawled out naked beside him, an eyebrow raised and his head propped up on his elbow. When Harry glanced at him, he couldn’t help but notice something soft, almost fond, in the way he was staring.

“Mmhm.” Words were a bit beyond Harry’s capabilities at the moment. He was too thoroughly fucked.

They had been dating for two months. Was dating the right word? Harry didn’t quite know. Fucking was probably a more accurate description. In all that time, they’d only ever met at hotels or at Harry’s house. This was the first time Harry had been invited to visit Draco’s London flat. And so it was also the first time he’d been in Draco’s bed, with the fancy black silk sheets.

Neither of them tended to linger long after these meetings. Typically by this point, one or the other of them was already up and pulling clothes back on. This time felt different, was different, and neither of them seemed to have any plans of standing up any time soon. Somewhere deep in his drowsy mind, Harry supposed that he was the one who should be leaving, getting up and getting a move on. It was Draco’s bed after all, so there was no reason Draco should be the one to leave. But Draco hadn’t said a word, and seemed content to lounge around with Harry beside him. He had invited Harry to his flat, after all, and had seemed rather nervous about it.

Fuck, maybe they were dating.

And maybe that was brilliant.

Sprawled out on his stomach, warm and sleepy and sex-happy, Harry stretched again and nuzzled his face against the smooth fabric of the pillow case.

“Please, do make yourself at home, Potter.” Draco’s tone was pure, droll sarcasm, but his voice also hitched with a puff of air that Harry thought might have been a laugh.

“Trying to decide which feels better,” Harry mumbled into the feather pillow. “You, or this bed.”

“Oh, and here I was thinking we’d go for round two! Silly me. Shall I leave you alone to fuck my furniture?”

“Maybe.” Harry laughed. Taunting Draco, he rocked his hips and thrust against the mattress. “The bed’s more supportive than you.”

“Oh, ha ha.” Draco rolled his eyes, but a smile tugged one corner of his mouth. “If you grow bored of the bed, the chaise out in the living room is a saucy little tart.”

“Hmmm…but does the chaise have silk sheets?” He rolled his hips again, and then did it once more, a little firmer, because fuck, that really did feel nice on his skin. His cock twitched and swelled with new interest as the cool, sleek fabric flowed against him. “Because these are pretty fantastic.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “They’re…uh…” He shifted and lifted up on one elbow to get a better look at Harry, and his words sputtered to a halt.

He was flustered, Harry realized. Draco sounded distracted and flustered.

With every ounce of control he possessed, Harry bit down on the cheeky smile that threatened to break across his face and give him away. It wasn’t easy to get Draco flustered. Normally, he was as cool and smooth as these damn sheets, no matter how much Harry tried to rile him up. He couldn’t help himself. It would be fun to get a rise out of Draco.

Harry let his eyes flutter shut and he bit his lip as he shifted against the bed. Breathy, he asked, “What were you saying?”

Draco cleared his throat. “Not silk. They’re satin. Charmeuse. Actually.”

A deep moan rumbled out of Harry’s throat and he spread his legs a little wider. His cock had stiffened to full hardness now. It hung heavy and hot against the bed, every stroke of it against the fabric building pleasure slow and lazy in his spine. “Well, whatever they are…” Another moan, deep and hungry, as he thrust against the bed. “They feel amazing.”

Harry could feel Draco’s eyes on him, burning into him, though he refused to look. He lifted up on his elbows to give himself better leverage…and to give Draco a better view.

And fuck, it felt good. A wave of heavy pleasure built through him and he let his head hang loose between his shoulders as he worked his hips and his back, rutting his swollen cock against the sheets with just barely enough pressure to satisfy.

Beside him, Draco nearly growled, “Holy fuck. You shameless little…”

Slow and caramel, Harry rolled his body and moaned as he fucked himself on the silk. “You like that?”

“Yes.” Draco practically bit the word. Harry spared a glance at him through heavy lidded eyes, and saw that Draco was hard now too, his cock full and thick and pink against his pale stomach. One of his hands, all long, elegant fingers, trailed down and skimmed through the golden hair surrounding it. Harry groaned as Draco wrapped a fist around his own cock and gave it a firm pull. “Fuck, you are gorgeous. So gorgeous like that. In my bed.”

Breathless, somewhere on the edge of taunting Draco and lost in himself as he writhed against the sheets, Harry asked, “You like to watch me?”

“Yes. But I prefer to participate.” In one smooth motion, Draco flung himself up and over to settle behind Harry on the bed. With a sigh, he eased himself between Harry’s thighs and squeezed one cheek of Harry’s arse. “Gorgeous.”

Harry moaned and pushed up into Draco’s grip before thrusting forward to rub his cock against the mattress. Draco ran a steady hand up Harry’s spine and down along his flank, murmuring sweet, delicious nonsense all the while. Harry trembled at the touch, which felt so calm and steady in its assurance of possessiveness. He could play and taunt and tease. But the sure stroking of Draco’s hand insisted that he was owned. A shudder of pleasure rolled through his body at the touch, the thought, and he gasped, his hips jerking with more fervor as he chased the feeling.

With both hands, Draco dug his fingers into the globes of Harry’s arse and massaged the muscles while Harry tightened and released with each thrust. A moment later, Harry felt first Draco’s thumb and then the ghost of his breath, move slowly, intentionally, tauntingly, down the line of his crack. The hot slip of Draco’s tongue flicked over his hole, and Harry nearly spilled himself then and there. He whimpered.

Draco teased for only a second. After that first barely-there brush, he dove in and devoured Harry’s arse, moaning deep in his throat as if it was the most fantastic thing he’d ever tasted.

“Fuck!” Harry had officially lost the game and couldn’t care less. Desperate and needy, he at once drove his cock forward to slide against the sheets, then shoved backwards to get more of Draco’s mouth. Again and again, his temperature and tempo rising, he pushed back and forth against the two competing sensations – the sheets on the bed cool and slick, Draco’s grip on his arse hot and rough. Long, hard licks of Draco’s tongue drenched him from his bollocks to the base of his spine. “Oh, fuck, your mouth is so good!”

When he pushed back, Draco grabbed his hips with both hands and smashed his face in deep. Harry shuddered and moaned as Draco kissed and sucked on the furrow of his hole, wet and messy and fevered. Without warning, Draco’s tongue firmed to a point and circled his edge once, twice, and then jabbed in past his rim. Inside him. Draco's tongue was inside him, tasting him, fucking him, owning him. “Oh, fuck, Draco!”

Harry’s arms gave out underneath him, and his vision swirled as he panted for breath. A keening whine squeezed out through the tightness in his chest. So close. Fuck, he was so close! He fucked forward to rut his cock into the sheets, backward to impale himself on Draco’s wicked, perfect tongue. His hips rocked frantically, nearly in a panic, as he desperately chased after his orgasm. Like outstretched fingers brushing over the wings of a snitch, it was just within reach, if only he could go a little harder, a little faster…

Draco gave one more flick of his tongue, and that was all it took. Harry arched his spine and moaned as his orgasm smashed over him and ripped through his body. Jets of hot come pulsed from his cock and smeared into the expensive silk sheets. Helpless to do anything else, he rode the waves of it and then collapsed, limbless and floating, back onto the pillows.

With a wet goodbye kiss, Draco pulled away but didn’t join Harry back up at the top of the bed. It took Harry a groggy, sex-drunk moment to realize why.

“Stay right there,” Draco said, his voice rough and throaty. “Fuck. Gorgeous. Stay just like that.”

Slowly, Harry lifted his head and looked back over his shoulder to stare. Draco wasn’t the only one who liked to watch.

He had lifted up to kneel between Harry’s legs, and the lines of his torso and thighs were long and pale and lean. As Harry watched, Draco wrapped a fist around his swollen pink cock and jerked it fast. His head lolled loose with fine blond hair hanging in a damp mess, mouth open, chest heaving as he worked himself and panted for breath.

He looked completely fucking debauched. Completely fucking perfect. Harry’s tongue darted out on instinct and he bit his lip to keep from growling.

Their eyes met. Locked. And then Draco groaned and spilled his release all over the swell of Harry’s arse.

Once both of them were satisfied, Harry relaxed every muscle in his body and sank back down. Draco’s hot come cooled on his back, and a glob of it slowly ran down his cheek and into his crack. Face hidden, feeling slightly delirious, he grinned into the pillow.

With an uncharacteristically heavy and graceless _thwump_ , Draco collapsed onto the bed beside him. Harry looked up to find Draco grinning too. They laughed as they slowed their hearts and caught their breath.

Out of nowhere, Draco asked, “Do you like French toast? I was thinking I might make you French toast for breakfast tomorrow.”

“Oh you don’t have to do that!” Not quite able to help himself, Harry teased, “You don’t have to go and learn how to use the stove just for me!”

“Oh, shut it, Potter!” Draco smacked him and laughed. “I know how to cook.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“So, you will see it, then?” Draco asked, suddenly more serious. Tentative. Almost soft. Almost nervous. Almost… “Breakfast? Tomorrow? You’ll stay?”

Almost Harry’s.

A slow, warm tenderness bloomed in Harry’s chest and he smiled. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”

“Good.” Draco was trying not to smile too, but the bright joy in his eyes gave him away. “It would have been too difficult to tear you away from your new lover, my bed. I imagine you’ve utterly ruined the sheets.”

Sheepish, Harry smiled. “I’ll buy you a new set.”

“What, so you can ruin those too?”

“Maybe.” Harry tried not to grin at the implication that he’d be invited back to Draco’s bed again, perhaps regularly. “You do have a lot of nice looking furniture, though. I think next time, you should introduce me to that chaise you were telling me about.”

Draco smacked Harry with a pillow. Laughing, they fell into each other’s arms and stayed there all night. And for a long while after that, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you liked this, you could check out my other fic, or follow me on tumblr for a bunch of books, cats, and Harry Potter meta thoughts: http://norelationtoatticus.tumblr.com/


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